Low Key
by Pidraya
Summary: Things between Gibbs and Jenny Shepard continue to evolve. A story set in Naples in 1998.
1. Chapter 1

_**Naples Field Office**_

_**October 11th, 1998**_

In the confinement of the Naples field office it was hard to ignore the fact that she was attractive to men.

Gibbs tried, and failed, to keep his eyes off the back-pleated skirt that slid up her thighs as she leaned over her desk and reached for the phone – as did everyone else in the vicinity. But as she scribbled something on a piece of paper he heard a low approaching whistle to his left, and his eyes narrowed as he attributed the sound to Wiliam Decker.

The man walked past him and perched on the edge of her desk as she replaced the phone.

"Happy unbirthday," he said with a wink as he handed her a package.

Jenny looked at him through wide eyes when she realised what he'd given her.

"You can't find these in Europe. Where did y-"

Decker leaned forward and whispered the answer into her ear.

"Oh stop it, " she snorted as she slapped his arm with the back of her hand.

"I'm serious. It's a meat market out there. Everything's available for a price."

Jenny covered her eyes with a hand and shook in silent laughter.

"Get out of here," she said after a moment. "I have work to do."

"I _pimp_ myself to get you _Reese's peanut butter cups_ and this is the thanks I get?" Decker complained as she planted a hand into his chest and pushed him away.

"I'm not hitting the streets to get you anything, if that's what you're asking," she said with a smile.

"I'll collect on that drink you promised me," he replied seriously, his voice dropping a notch.

Jen froze.

She'd put him off repeatedly for the past few weeks, but it had been fairly easy because he'd always cornered her in private. Although he'd whispered his request she was well aware that at least three pairs of eyes were watching the interaction with interest.

"Thank you for the chocolate," she said with the best smile she could muster.

"I _will_ collect," Decker said. Winking at her again before turning and leaving.

Jen closed her eyes as he walked away. When she opened them again Jethro was bent over paperwork; and although she knew he wasn't the type of man to feel threatened, what they had was too new to risk misunderstandings. She scrambled the paper roughly - knowing it would attract his attention - and dropped the entire package into the trash can as she walked past his desk.

"Shepard!" an agent called Calhoun shouted as he entered the room.

Jen stopped in her tracks and put her hands on her hips as she turned to face him.

"Yeah?" she asked cockily.

A paper plane hit her square in the chest.

"This is _your_ fault."

Jen crouched and unfolded the piece of paper.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"I kid you not," Calhoun said. "Found it posted in the cafeteria a few minutes ago. This is _your_ fault and you're buying tonight."

Pacci sauntered up behind her and plucked the piece of paper from her hands.

"Thanks a lot, Jen," he said as he patted her on the shoulder.

"How is this my fault?"

"You come to work looking like sin on heels and you ask how this is your _fault_?" Pacci said with a laugh. "You have half these poor bastards jer-"

He trailed off as he was relieved of the paper.

Gibbs took in the contents and his eyebrows rose into his hairline.

"Nice one, Jen," he said as he dropped the paper onto Callen's desk.

"Hey!" she said. "This is _not_ my fault."

"I've never been to a sexual harassment seminar," Callen piped up.

"Green lights, red lights ..." Pacci started to explain.

"_Orange_ lights," contributed Calhoun.

A groan of frustration reverberated around the room.

Jen shot them all a withering look and spun on her heel; grabbing her handbag before leaving the room.

"_You're buying, Shepard_," Calhoun shouted after her. "You hear me? You're buying!"

"Is she annoyed?" Callen asked, cringing as the door slammed shut.

"Nah."

"How bad can it be?" Callen said as he held the paper up.

The only answer he got was a slap upside the head.

* * *

_**October 13th, 1998**_

Gibbs looked at his watch and stifled a yawn.

Ten minutes past five and there was no indication that the seminar was anywhere close to ending.

Two seats to the right Calhoun was vying for Jenny's attention.

"What are you looking at?" he heard the man hiss as he reached for the photocopy she was looking at.

"None of your business," she snapped as she batted his hand and angled her body away from him.

"Oh _come on_," Calhoun said as he tried to reach across her.

"Is there a problem, Agent Calhoun?" the instructor asked.

"No ma'am," he drawled.

Making the most of the reprieve, Jen folded the piece of paper over and slid it to Gibbs for safekeeping; with what he could only describe as a poker face. His hand rested over it for a few moments, and when curiosity got the better of him he pulled it off the desk and opened it. He stared at the drawing for a moment, not sure what he was supposed to be seeing. It was a drawing of a bird. A damn good drawing. He chanced a look at Jen, and the gleam in her eye told him that he was missing something. His eyes scanned the drawing again. More critically this time. And that's when he saw the cleverly-disguised figure of a woman within.

He chanced another look at the woman by his side and a spark of electricity ran straight to his groin as he watched her twirl a tress of hair in her fingers before running it through her lips.

He'd never had a place in the triangle that had been Burley, Pacci, and Jenny in DC, but looking at her now he wondered how he'd missed the fact that she had a wicked streak. He wanted to think that she'd evolved in the weeks since Marseille; that it was down to him and the way their relationship had changed. But she hadn't really. She'd always had a sexual edge to her. An edge it was impossible to ignore now that he'd rubbed against it. An edge that was making it difficult for him to keep his hands off her.

He didn't think he'd been this frustrated since his early days in the Corps.

Logic dictated that at this juncture in the narrative they should be grabbing every possible opportunity to be together – even if it meant sneaking around. But that, too, was proving impossible. They were surrounded by colleagues all day and sometimes all night, and their living arrangements were hardly conducive to spending the night together. As things stood he hadn't been able to get close to her for the past four days, and walking around with a semi-erection all day was starting to grate on his nerves.

Something brushed against the hand lying on his lap, and it took him all of two seconds to realise that the fleeting caress had come from Jen. Her hand was gone before he could respond in kind, but the small smile on her face told him all he needed to know. Conscious of the fact that nobody could see what he was doing, he slipped his hand between her and her chair and stroked her outer thigh with his thumb. Jen bit her lower lip as she turned to look at him, but it was the way her eyes smouldered that gave him the idea that the past four days has been as difficult for her as they had for him.

His body's response was immediate.

"Agent Gibbs!"

All heads snapped up at the sound of Decker's voice.

Pacci, Callen and Jen were on their feet in an instant – assuming this meant a call out.

"Just Gibbs," Decker said with an apologetic smile.

Jen watched them leave and felt a ripple of irritation run through her. If she read the situation correctly, all the promise she'd read in Jethro's eyes had just been snatched away from her.

She cursed Decker.

"You're buying _doubles_, Shepard," Calhoun hissed in her ear as he leaned across her without warning and grabbed the drawing off the table. "What was the big deal anyway?" he asked as he looked at the bird.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Expect a change in the rating for the second and final chapter of this, tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Naples**_

_**October 15th, 1998**_

Gibbs felt as though his head might implode. He'd walked out of the seminar under the illusion that Decker wanted a quick word. Instead he'd found himself in video conference with DC, and on a plane back to Russia a few hours after that. Petrov had met him in St. Petersburg, but his connections had yielded nothing but dead ends.

Then, just as he'd been ready to call it quits, they'd caught a break.

A Czech informant had come through with the news that an important deal would be going down in Babice - a small village in the Central Bohemian Region to the east of Prague – in a few days. Details were few and far between, but that wasn't unusual. There was every chance that this might come to nothing like so many other pieces of intel before it, but Gibbs couldn't afford to pass up the chance that the man he was after would be covering the event. He looked at his watch before taking a long swallow from his hip flask.

His hand hovered over the phone on his desk as he debated calling Jenny.

He'd called her a lot later than this on occasion, but still he hesitated. He refused to listen to the voice in his head whispering that he didn't want to find out if she had company, and told himself instead that hearing her voice was going to make him want her when seeing her tonight was out of the question.

He acknowledged reluctantly that his frustration in Russia had amplified.

Everywhere they'd gone women had eyed him as though he were a prize bull in the stockade; sending drinks and brushing up against him shamelessly as he and Petrov met with informants in seedy bars all over the city. The Russian had clearly been amused by his discomfort – even if he hadn't had the temerity to say so out loud.

Gibbs took another swig from his flask, looked at the phone once more, and made peace with his choice.

He could wait till tomorrow.

An open bar caught his attention as he made his way home, and there was no reason not to stop in. But his thoughts didn't stray far from Jen – and as he trudged up the steps to his apartment a while later, pleasantly buzzed, he'd made up his mind to call her despite the late hour.

He smirked as he thought about how the evening would invariably end; but that was hardly a problem.

He needed to unwind and alcohol alone clearly wasn't going to cut it.

He reached for the phone in the hallway as soon as he stepped inside, and a curious mix of annoyance and disappointment ran through him when he got her answering machine. The thought that she couldn't possibly be with Decker because he'd left him poring over paperwork took him by surprise, and he replaced the phone without leaving a message. Only to pick it up a few seconds later and redial. He leaned his head back against the wall as her voice washed over him; rubbing himself gently over his jeans as the tendrils of arousal started to assert themselves. Drawing out the sensation for a few moments. Enjoying the quiet that only night could bring.

Clearly he'd underestimated how on edge he'd been because he was almost there and he hadn't even made skin to skin contact. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Pushing off the wall and pulling his shirt and t-shirt up over his head as he crossed the living room. Intending to have a drink of water before hitting the shower, but stopping dead in his tracks instead.

He smelt her before he saw her; the signature scent of champagne and strawberries invading his senses and making him dizzy with lust as he flipped the light switch. He circled her for a brief moment; something akin to wariness in his stance as the throb of need reached saturation point in the tiny kitchen. He had her up against the counter a heartbeat later. Kissing her hard; the sensation amplified by the feel of her silky blouse against his naked torso.

When he felt as though he might drown before he'd so much as touched her, he pulled away and looked at her. But she'd been without him too long to be interested in a lull. Her mouth planted itself on his; her tongue insistent and urgent. Eliciting a response that embodied the same fervour. They broke apart just long enough for him to undo the top buttons of her blouse and raise it over her head, but he found he couldn't summon the patience to tackle her bra clasp.

He chose to push the whole thing up instead.

His mouth closed around one nipple while his fingers found the other as her hands tugged in frustration at his zipper. He gasped when the waistband of his boxers caught on his erection, but it only served to spur him on. He lifted her skirt. Running his hands feverishly up her thighs as her fingers made frantic, almost painful, contact with him. He stepped out of the jeans pooling absurdly around his ankles and pushed her against the nearest available surface. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she sank her tongue deeper into his mouth. Probing, demanding, as he divested her of her underwear without subtlety.

There was no question of taking this slowly or relocating to the bedroom.

They were both too far gone to care anyway.

Jen's hips jerked in response to the touch of his fingers, and she spread herself wider instinctively as he raised her up; scrambling for purchase against his slick skin as he wrapped her legs forcibly around him. She met his thrusts with increasing rhythm as he cupped her buttocks and pounded her in desperation; the sounds he made hungry and greedy. Fuelling her need - for more and for him. Her body twisted with his in tortuous pleasure as the ascending urgency obliterated everything else, but it was the low animal sound he made in the throes of orgasm that sent her into freefall.

As he lowered her legs to the floor the smirk on his face was unmistakeable.

"Well," she said lightly as she placed a hand on his chest to steady herself, "now that _that's_ out of the way ..."

Gibbs chest rumbled with what she suspected might be suppressed laughter, but he said nothing. Merely brushed his lips against hers before straightening up.

His face turning serious as he watched Jen pull her bra down and reach for the rest of her clothes.

"Stay," he said as he reached for her hand.

He watched her eyes widen in shock.

They were nowhere near ready to take themselves down this path, he knew that. Sleeping together was one thing, sharing a bed quite another.

He felt the indecision, but found he didn't care.

There had been too much isolation, too much loss, and somewhere in his head he wanted to be back in a place where he could give freely.

"Jethro .."

He could sense hesitation and indecision to rival his own, but his gut told him to push.

He placed a solitary kiss to the inside of her wrist.

"Please?"


End file.
